


Owned

by Lemonandpie



Series: Taking Care of You [9]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cock Cages, Dialogue Heavy, Dom Foggy Nelson, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Foggy Nelson needs a hug, Human Furniture, Hurt Matt Murdock, Injury Recovery, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Near Death Experiences, Relationship Discussions, Retirement, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Who put realism in my indulgent smut fic, collaring, submissive matt murdock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonandpie/pseuds/Lemonandpie
Summary: Being Daredevil takes its toll. So does loving Daredevil. Something's got to give.The finale!
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Taking Care of You [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732525
Comments: 36
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiiiii! I originally planned for this to be all finished by the end of November before everything got even more chaotic than it already is, but sadly I lost my motivation for a while. Ah, well. 
> 
> We're finally in the last stretch!

Foggy loved being indulgent. He loved the way the richness of expensive coffee rolled over his taste buds. He loved eating out at his favorite restaurant and then getting an overpriced dessert. He loved wearing nice suits that always got him admiring looks, even if the looks were always admiring his power rather than his body. He loved lazy days where he got to lay around and do things at the pace he wanted, ideally with his cock in his boyfriend’s mouth or ass. 

He loved birthdays because they gave him an excuse to indulge even more than usual. Their latest case had settled for a solid ten million, and once Nelson and Murdock received their payment they had more than enough to enjoy a victory celebration. Seeing as the lawsuit had wrapped up only a week before Foggy turned thirty-five, they had decided to blend their celebrations together. Matt had woken Foggy up with breakfast in bed accompanied by a blowjob. They took the long route to work and got pastries from the bakery up the road for lunch. For dinner, they had taken Karen out with them to a restaurant that was expensive but not basically performing extortion, and had been able to spend enough to fully enjoy the experience instead of tossing up whether a splurge on Ben and Jerry’s on the way home would get the power turned off. 

It had been a long time since Foggy had to watch the bills come in and wonder if he and Matt were going to have to work from home or sleep in their office because they couldn’t afford rent on both. They still lived in the same shitty apartment, but they knew their chances of finding something better were slim, and honestly the billboard kept their power bill down. Instead, they slowly filled their home with store bought furniture instead of whatever they could find at a thrift shop that didn’t make Matt want to hurl, and the softest furnishings a Sub could want, especially one like Matt, and kitchen appliances that actually worked instead of needing a blood sacrifice to give you burnt coffee and ruined toast.

It was probably laughable to the socialites of upper Manhattan, but to Foggy it was the height of indulgence and he was going to roll around in it happy as could be. And if, on his birthday, he wanted to curl up on a rug with the man he loved and drink reasonably priced wine and eat fresh red velvet cake then so what if the rug wasn’t bear skin. 

“I wish we had a fire,” Foggy said around a mouthful of cake. 

“I don’t.” Matt dragged his finger across the corner of Foggy’s lip and pulled it back with a layer of cream cheese frosting. He sucked on it and moaned happily. “Blindness isn’t the best disability to combine with an open flame.”

“Wouldn’t you be able to sense it?” Foggy wiggled his fingers like he was performing a magic spell. 

“I mean,” Matt laughed. “Have you tried to sense fire? It kind of scrambles your brain.”

“True.” Foggy took a drink of some wine. It was pleasantly fruity. “But then I could watch you in front of the fire, all the ways the flickering light highlights the contours of your body…”

Matt snorted. “You just want to make s’mores.”

“I could do both!” Foggy said indignantly. He tried to kiss the laugh off Matt’s face, but it didn’t work. “It takes a certain level of skill to watch you being sexy while perfectly roasting a marshmallow.”

“Uh-huh,” Matt said, leaning forward so Foggy would kiss him more. Foggy was never one to deny such a pretty face, so he pulled Matt into him. Matt lifted his leg so he could straddle Foggy.

Matt suddenly yelped.

“Matt?!” Foggy rolled Matt so he was lying on his back again. Matt’s face was screwed up in pain and he was clutching his hip tightly.

“I’m fine,” Matt said through gritted teeth.

“Matt,” Foggy growled.

Matt scrunched his face up like a toddler about to throw a tantrum, before shaking his head and trying to breath his way through the pain.

“My leg,” Matt said. “It hurts.”

Foggy was already up trying to find his phone. “Broken? Dislocated? Hidden stab wound?”

“No,” Matt groaned. “It just hurts.”

Foggy stopped looking for the phone.

“Anything I can do?”

“Tylenol,” Matt replied, rubbing his thigh and wincing.

Foggy ran to one of their many stashes of painkillers dotted around the apartment and popped out a few Tylenol as well as grabbing a glass of water. He helped Matt swallow them both before laying down beside him.

“Feeling better?” Foggy asked when Matt’s breathing began to calm down.

“Yeah,” Matt replied. “I think it just seized up. I’m sorry-- kind of killed the mood a bit.” 

“Don’t worry.” Foggy pulled open Matt’s pants. “I’m sure we can find a leg-friendly way to bring the mood back to life.”

\---

The problem was… well, it was the same problem it always was. Foggy surrounded himself with nice things that made him happy to try and escape from the absolute certainty that one day he was going to be called in to the New York morgue and asked to identify the body that looked an awful lot like his partner. Every night before he went to sleep, often alone, he went to sleep wondering if that was the last night he was going to be able to worry about Matt instead of just… knowing.

It didn’t help that things were starting to catch up with Matt, and they both knew it. Sometimes his reactions would be slower. Sometimes he would get phantom pain from all the spots Nobu skewered him with… whatever the hell he used. And sometimes his body would just say enough was enough.

Foggy didn’t know which he hated more-- having to worry about Matt on the streets, or having to worry because Matt was in too much pain to get up the stairs to the roof. Both were an aching reminder that this was the final act of Daredevil’s play, and they could guess what the finale was going to be before the curtain even started rising.

Sometimes Foggy wanted to order him to stay. Foggy wanted to tie him down and make sure he never left Foggy’s sight again. He wanted Matt to be obedient for once in his life and _not get himself killed_. But Foggy knew there wasn’t anything he could do. 

_“Don’t worry,”_ Matt always said. _“Murdocks always get back up.”_

 _Yeah, until they don’t_. 

Foggy didn’t want to rub it in that they had definitive proof that Murdocks were most certainly not invincible, and their stubborn ‘get back up’ streak had led to more than a few deaths in the family, but that was a low blow just to make a point.

He started to think it was worth it the morning Frank Castle brought back a very bloody, very limp, very tenuously alive Matt.

“Oh my god,” Foggy said, looking down at the pummeled meat that used to be Matt’s face. “Oh my god.”

“Nelson,” Frank growled, grabbing Foggy’s arm and turning him away from Matt. Foggy was in too much shock to scream at him. “The nurse. You need to call her.”

“But he’s--” Foggy stammered.

Frank snapped his fingers in front of Foggy’s face. They sounded like a gunshot.

“Nurse,” he ordered. _Like a soldier_. “Call her. Now.” 

Foggy scrambled for his phone and dialed Claire’s number.

 _“Hello?”_ She asked, only two rings after he called.

“It’s Foggy.” His hand was shaking too much to keep the phone steady. “Matt’s in trouble, he’s got-- oh god, I don’t even know what’s wrong with him.”

Frank pulled the phone out of Foggy’s hands.

“Red had a ceiling cave in on top of him. I can’t see anything deadly, but he’s been in and out of consciousness for almost forty minutes.”

Foggy reached his hand towards Matt’s face, but snatched his hand back at the last second. _Don’t jostle his head,_ he warned himself. Instead he took Matt’s hand-- after taking Matt’s glove off and seeing just how pale he was where not covered in blood and dust-- and held it as gently as he possibly could.

Matt whimpered. It was the high whimper he sometimes made when a scene pushed his limits particularly far, or -- more often-- when he had a nightmare about when he was a kid. It was the sound that meant Matt was feeling weak, and vulnerable, and was most likely in pain. 

“I’ve got you baby,” Foggy said quietly. “I’m going to be right here for as long as you need me.” _Don’t leave me_ , he wanted to beg, but he had to keep Matt calm. He had long decided that he was going to take care of Matt right until the end.

Foggy wasn’t much of a praying man. The Nelson’s tended to be church-goers out of tradition rather than any sense of faith, and the most times he prayed as a kid was when he _really_ wanted a skateboard like Theo’s, which he had given up on when he remembered Santa. (He had gotten the skateboard, but only because he prayed out loud because that was what they did in the movies and his Mom had heard him).

Looking over Matt, with his swollen face, his arm that was facing the wrong angle, and the leg that just wasn’t sitting right, Foggy decided that at the very least a little bit of prayer wouldn’t hurt. Matt always said he prayed simply because it helped, and if there was anything that would keep his mind off the way Matt’s chest kept stopping between breaths he would take it.

They were going to have to come up with a cover story for what killed him. Something that wouldn’t lead to people just asking more questions. Maybe Foggy should get the priest from Matt’s church in so Matt could get last rites. Foggy was probably going to have to check himself into a hospital as well-- losing a partner was the most common cause for fatal Drops. God, how was he going to tell Karen?

There was a pounding at the door. Frank walked out of the bedroom to pull it open. No one exchanged, well, anything. Instead Claire burst into their bedroom. Her face froze when she saw the bloodied mess that Matt was.

“Foggy, you should leave,” Claire said in her ‘nurse’ voice.

“No,” Foggy said.

Claire sighed, but didn’t push it. Instead she knelt down beside Matt and said something in Spanish that Foggy was fairly certain was a sling of creative curse words.

Foggy kept his eyes on Matt while Claire worked. He didn’t need to see all the different ways Matt had been hurt. He would stay calm, and keep Matt calm, right until the moment he either opened his eyes or stopped breathing.

There were loud hisses when Claire pulled off the pants of Matt’s suit. It caught his attention just long enough to see the swollen, purple, angry _thing_ that should have been Matt’s hip. He turned back to Matt, squeezing Matt’s thankfully uninjured hand tighter. 

The only time Matt stirred was to whine, whimper, or grunt when Claire moved or touched something that hurt. When Claire did… whatever she was doing to his leg, he screamed and almost broke Foggy’s hand with how tightly he clenched.

“It’s ok,” Foggy said to him. “It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok.”

“Somebody hold him!” Claire yelled, and suddenly way too many hands to belong to just Frank were on Matt, keeping him still on the bed while Claire did something that made a loud _pop_ followed by a _squelch_ and a whole host of other onomatopoeia that was going to make Foggy puke if he thought about it.

Then, finally, everything was still. Foggy waited for the cease of Matt’s breathing, the final stop that would never start again. Instead Matt’s chest kept going in and out, though his skin was so gray that it almost didn’t look human. 

Claire collapsed beside the bed.

“You know what,” she panted. “You should just never let him off his leash again.”

\---

Frank left as soon as it was confirmed that Matt wasn’t going to die in the near future. Foggy would have wagered that he was going to stay longer, but he and Luke were ramping up an already tense situation by being around each other.

Luke had been the one to finally convince Foggy to leave Matt for a bit, and only so that Matt could get some rest.

“I don’t know how his sense thing works,” Luke said. “But your heart is beating so loud even us without super senses can hear it.”

Foggy knew it was also to give Claire some time to work on the more gruesome but less serious parts of Matt’s treatment. At least Luke gave him a glass of perfectly brewed hot chocolate, the kind that made him want to say it was just like his mother made it except his Mom never made anything that good.

“I keep forgetting you were a bartender,” Foggy said.

Luke just smiled at him and sat down on one of their chairs, which looked like it was creaking under the size of him. His face then turned somber.

“I know what it’s like,” he said. “The fear, the pain. And I know you want nothing more than to be with him right now. But you’re terrified and he won’t understand why, which will make him worse.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll--” Foggy broke off with a sigh, which turned into a sob. “I've been waiting for fourteen years to lose him. And tonight I was so _sure_ that this was it. That this was going to be the night he left me. And the thing is…” Foggy sniffed. “The thing is that I know I’m going to hate him for it. There’s already a part of me that hates him for it. I get why he does what he does but I don’t understand why he needs to do it more than he wants to be with me.”

“Matt is a…” Luke paused. “...Stubborn S.O.B. He always seems to be a little bit lost, no matter which lifestyle he’s pursuing. I don’t know why he does what he does -- or how, I’m still clueless about the how -- but I think the time might be coming for him to decide whether or not it’s worth it.”

“He won’t go down quietly.” Foggy stared down into his chocolate. “He said that the Murdock family motto was to always get back up.”

“Life is enough of a battle.” Luke put his hand on Foggy’s shoulder. “Maybe he’ll realize that the Devil is what’s trying to keep him on the mat. Sometimes to go the distance you need to leave the ring.”

\---

The swelling on Matt’s face was starting to go down. After a long week of bleeding, stitching, and oozing, he was starting to look more like himself. Foggy was grateful. He didn’t much care what Matt looked like as long as he was living and breathing, but he knew Matt very much cared about what other people thought of him, and having a pretty face always went a long way in that regard.

Everything else was more touch and go. Matt had a broken arm, collarbone, and two cracked ribs. Claire still wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t need surgery on his shattered hip. He was going to walk again, and if he was patient he could maybe even fight again. But more than likely he was going to need the hip replaced sooner rather than later, and he was going to be in a lot of pain most if not all the time.

More than once, especially when Foggy had to help Matt to the bathroom that had ended in Matt sobbing with frustration and pain, Foggy had been tempted to get the Daredevil suit and set it on fire. 

“I don’t need it,” Matt said when Foggy brought out the wheelchair Claire had managed to pull some strings to get from the hospital (all legal and paid for, just not on the books). 

“I’m not going to treat you like a stubborn kid so I can watch you fall on your face because you can’t put weight on your leg,” Foggy replied. He sounded as weary as he felt. “You’re using the chair.”

Matt had wisely not argued after that, and let Foggy help him into the chair. Foggy wheeled him into the kitchen so they could at least talk to each other while Foggy made dinner. The conversation wasn’t lively: Foggy didn’t have the energy to talk like he usually would, and Matt only responded in grunts and murmurs.

Foggy set out their dinner and began to eat, in silence. Matt didn’t even lift his arms from the chair. He didn’t even seem interested in the plate. His head was tilted to the sky, following sounds too far away for Foggy to hear. Listening to all the people who were in danger.

Foggy sniffed.

Matt’s head suddenly snapped around.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. In the deep, gravelly voice he used for the Devil.

“How long until you go out there again?” Foggy sniffed again. “A month? Two? The second you can walk again you’re going to be fighting again and this time you’re going to die.”

“Foggy…” Matt said awkwardly, or defensively, or any other emotion that Foggy couldn’t work out.

Foggy wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat, and he knew that if he tried he would just end up sobbing instead.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Foggy froze. “What?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Matt asked again. Foggy couldn’t understand the expression on his face at all. He wanted to think that Matt looked hopeful. He didn’t trust himself enough to think it was true.

“I want you to be alive,” Foggy said. Appetite gone, he stood up to gather the dishes.

Matt sat there in silence, frozen in place, looking like his world was falling down around his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed the writer ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be up three days ago but me @ time management: I don't know her.gif

If there was one thing Matt hated above all other therapy related things, it was the start of the session. It was hard to make small talk with someone who knew his deepest, darkest, and most embarrassing secrets, but likewise jumping straight into a discussion of his various demons was awkward and uncomfortable. At least Confession had a script. Matt liked having scripts.

“You’re walking on your own again,” Doctor Walker said from her chair. “That must be a relief.”

“Yeah.” It had been such a relief that Matt had thrown the damn walking stick across the room hard enough that it left a dent where it hit the wall. 

“But no more bruises.” The clock in the lounge was ticking off beat to the one in Doctor Walker’s office. “Does that mean you have made a decision?”

“I don’t know.” Matt ran his fingers over the couch. Standard polyester and wool, not overly soft but not uncomfortable either. Apparently it was gray. 

“Sometimes indecision can itself be a decision.” Doctor Walker wasn’t writing anything down. Her pen rolled around on the pad every time she moved her knee.

“I haven't gone out the minute I could, so that means I’m giving the Devil up?” Matt scratched at the couch. It made a dull sound, something like a pull and a scrape and a pop all at once. 

“It means something.” Doctor Walker shifted in her seat. The pen rolled again, this time into her lap. “You’re jittery.”

“I’m stressed.” Matt could feel a bead of sweat from under his knee and roll down his calf. “I’m overstimulated. Of course I’m jittery.”

“Have you and Foggy been making any progress recently?” Doctor Walker picked her pen up again. Clicked it.

“No.” Matt’s hand clenched. “He’s sad all the time.”

“He’s worried about you.”

“Why?”

Doctor Walker sighed under her breath. Too low for anyone but him to hear it.

“It is natural to have difficulty after nearly losing a loved one. Don’t you remember how you reacted to his shooting?”

Matt stiffened in his seat. “This is different.”

“How?” Doctor Walker’s hair moved when she tilted her head.

“He can live without me.” Matt tapped his fingernail against his cane. The sound reverberated through the air. “He’ll be better off without me.”

“Does he agree with that?” There was a scratch of pen against paper. Matt couldn’t figure out what she was writing.

“No,” Matt said. “But he will.”

“Are you having difficulty giving up Daredevil because you are trying to keep Foggy safe from you?” A pause in her writing.

“I don’t know.”

The scratching resumed.

“Why do you think you keep being Daredevil?” 

“I’ve already told you,” Matt snapped. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Alright,” Doctor Walker said calmly. She sat her pen and paper down on the glass table beside her. “I think you want to protect people. I think your passion and need for justice are genuine. But I think that the reason why you use your fists, and not just your law degree, is because you need Stick’s training to have meant something. If the Devil is your purpose on earth, then God gave you to Stick so that he could train you to be a soldier. But if that is not your purpose, then you will simply be a victim of abuse. Daredevil allows you to rewrite the narrative of your suffering and reclaim your power.”

“Power?” Matt’s breath hitched. “You think this is about power?”

“Well,” Doctor Walker chuckled. “There are many ways that this is obviously about power. Violence gives you power over others, and power over yourself. It is not uncommon for victims to want to reclaim the power their abusers took from them at any cost.”

“You make me sound like an egomaniac,” Matt grumbled.

“Let me rephrase this, then: you and Foggy have been together for nearly fifteen years. Why don’t you wear a collar?”

Matt swallowed, his attention drawn to how naked the action felt without something for him to swallow against. “I--”

Matt stood up. It changed nothing for him to face out the window but he did anyway, desperate not to let the expanse of the room see his face, his expression, or his unclaimed throat. “It was a mutual decision.”

“You said you’ve never talked about it,” Doctor Walker replied. “You live together, you own a law firm together, but you’ve never talked about progressing your relationship?”

“Collars make you vulnerable.” Matt needed a glass of water. “People treat you differently, see you differently. You can’t go into a court of law with a collar on.”

“We have a Supreme Court Justice who wears his proudly,” Doctor Walker said calmly. “Submissives widely and proudly wear collars to their work, including lawyers, doctors, and other positions that rely on respect. I’ve seen bouncers with collars on.”

“That’s different.” Matt tried to swallow again and failed. “Subs are more likely to be victims of domestic abuse after they have been collared.”

“Do you think Foggy will hurt you?”

“No!” Matt turned around and gripped the back of the couch. 

“Do you think he will think of you differently?”

“Wouldn’t you?!” Matt bowed his head. “If I wear a collar he’s going to think I’m…”

“Weak?”

“ _ _Yes__.” Matt blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. When he realized what he had said, he scoffed. “Power. You’re right.”

“I think what you need to ask yourself--” Doctor Walker said as Matt walked around so he could collapse back onto the couch. “--is whether your need for the Devil is keeping you away from the life you want, or whether you are using the Devil as an excuse so you don’t have to confront your fears.”

Matt almost choked when outside he heard the first drop of rain.

\---

The apartment was empty when Matt got home. He hung his wet windbreaker on the hook by the door and slowly walked in. The cold made him ache, and the walk to and from his therapist’s office was too strenuous for someone newly accustomed to walking on his own again. He had been using his cane more like a walking stick than for navigation by the time he got home. 

He collapsed onto the couch, and when that irritating feeling began at the base of his skull, curled his good leg up so he was at least partially kneeling. The rain was pounding outside and playing havoc with his senses. Foggy was going to get soaked on the walk home. Matt should make some warming food for him, but he didn’t want to get out of his semi-kneeling position. Instead he curled up further, listened to the rain, and ran his fingers lightly over his bare throat.

Matt didn’t know why Foggy hadn’t collared him yet. They really had just never talked about it. Moving in together had been logical after leaving their dorm, and the formation of Nelson and Murdock had been similarly impulsive. But an actual discussion of their relationship had simply never happened. Matt knew Foggy’s family would sometimes press the matter, but Foggy had never brought it up with him so Matt assumed that Foggy wasn’t interested.

Or maybe he was just following Matt’s lead.

It wasn’t that Matt was against collaring as a concept. He loved the feeling of something around his throat, so much so that he would always tie his ties a little too tight to try and replicate it. And even more than that, he loved being claimed. He loved being claimed __by Foggy__. He had always been a bit of a flirt, at least once he realized that a bit of good looks and charm made people stop bullying him and start helping him, but he loved nothing more than the moment when Foggy came up and Matt bared his throat to be nuzzled by his Dom. 

It was heady.

It was erotic.

It was the sappiest he ever felt.

The idea of wearing Foggy’s collar so that everyone knew he was owned had played into more than a few of his fantasies. But every time he ran his hand over the supple leather that a store had on display, every time he felt air on his throat, he could hear Stick beating into him what happens to warriors who dare submit. He remembered the children at the orphanage, one of whom had been collared when he was only a teenager and had nearly cut open his jugular trying to get it off. He thought of his father, who was left Dropping and alone to raise a child with only an unclasped collar to remember Matt’s mother by. 

Matt knew that one day Foggy would leave. That one day Foggy would realize what a horrible influence Matt was and be with someone who could actually make him happy. No matter how afraid he had been trained to be of a collar around his throat, nothing frightened him more than having a collar only for it to be taken away. 

And he couldn’t be Daredevil with a collar. For practicality, first. If someone managed to get a grip on it he would be dead. For logic, second. Someone would recognise it, and with the design of his collar they would have his identity. Even if they didn’t, what criminal would cower before a collared vigilante? Certainly not one who lurked in Hell’s Kitchen.

But maybe Matt didn’t want to be Daredevil anymore. His body ached all the time, and he was finally starting to become fond of life enough to want to keep living. Nelson and Murdock were starting to become a genuine force for good. The number of vigilantes in New York were starting to make the city extremely crowded. But--

“Matt, you here?”

Matt made a soft noise, not quite an affirmative and definitely not a purr, but maybe something welcoming. He heard the sound of the light switch, followed by the hum and clicks of the lights turning on. Foggy’s clearly soaking jacket slapped the wall as he hung it up, stretching it so it would drive better but leaving a larger patch for it to drip on. Foggy hummed, and walked to the closet, pulling out a towel and draping it over the floor below the dripping clothes.

“It’s __ghastly__ out there, God, and the traffic was worse, I hate New York in the rain--”

“Can we talk?” 

Silence stretched over the room, filled only with the dripping of rainwater and hum of the lights. Foggy had even stopped breathing for the moment.

“What about?” Foggy asked, strained. He knelt down in front of where Matt was sitting on the couch nevertheless.

“Why have you never collared me?” Matt asked, though without the gaps that made it distinctly separate words instead of a jumbled mess. 

“Uh…” Foggy shrugged. “To be honest you never seemed interested in it and I didn’t want to make things awkward by bringing it up. Plus I was always waiting for the right time but it never came, and you know what we’re like with awkward conversations. Also the one my Grandma gave me is __really__ not your style--”

“Your grandmother gave you a collar?” Matt asked.

“Oh, right, yeah. It was, um--” Foggy hummed. “A year into our relationship? Roughly? Which was awfully presumptuous, but you know what grandmothers are like.”

“That long?” Matt felt like he had been punched in the chest. “And you never asked?”

“Did--” Foggy shuffled and reached up to grab Matt’s hand. “Did you want me to ask?”

“Maybe?” Matt squeaked. Foggy’s breath hitched. “It’s complicated.”

“So complicated,” Foggy confirmed. “We would have to update all of our tax forms, our insurance, our phone plans--” 

“We share most of those anyway.”

Foggy groaned. “Well, we’d also have to find time in our very busy schedules to have a ceremony that will have to be perfect because nothing gets critiqued like a Nelson wedding or collaring ceremony--”

“We have nothing in March. Karen can help with the planning.” Matt felt a smile begin to form on his lips.

Foggy snapped his fingers. “Daredevil! You can’t run around in pajamas and horns with a collar! It would be a disaster!”

“I’m quitting,” Matt said. He hadn’t even decided before he started speaking but he knew what his decision was the moment he said it.

“What?” Foggy gasped.

“I’m done. Maybe in emergencies or if someone calls but--” Matt bowed his head. “--I’m done. No more patrols, or investigations, or-- mmpf!”

Foggy kissed him like they were never going to see each other again. No, it was with more joy than that, more relief. Foggy kissed him like they hadn’t seen each other in years, but were finally going to be together like they wanted. Matt moaned into the kiss, and moaned louder when Foggy rose up from his position at Matt’s feet to loom over him, then pushed him down onto the couch.

“You mean it?” Foggy asked, stroking one hand tenderly across Matt’s face while the other twisted in Matt’s hair and pulled.

“I mean it,” Matt swore. He would have crossed his heart, but he didn’t want to move his hands from Foggy’s waist. “I don’t want to die as the Devil. I’d rather live as Matt Murdock.”

Foggy kissed him again, breaking it only when the kiss impeded the removal of Matt’s clothes. Matt had more clothes to rid Foggy of, silently complaining about how many layers Foggy wore in his new suits, but they could all be unbuttoned so while annoying at least they didn’t truly get in the way. Foggy’s hands ducked down to pop open Matt’s jeans, which signaled the difficult portion of their mutual strip. 

Foggy peppered Matt’s face with kisses and swallowed each hissed moan as they lifted Matt’s hips off the couch and into Foggy’s lap. Foggy hooked his finger under Matt’s briefs and gently began to tug both them and his jeans down at once. The slide was slow, especially when Foggy had to navigate Matt’s still healing hip, and the change in pace from frantic to glacial made Matt feel like his entire body was lighting up with arousal.

When Matt was completely naked, Foggy gently lifted Matt’s legs and shuffled out from under them. Matt groaned, but Foggy swallowed that as well. He took hold of Matt’s wrists and lifted them up, stretching them over the arm of the couch and laying one over the other.

“Patience,” Foggy said, kissing Matt again when he made an exaggerated frown.

Matt sank into his position on the couch, feeling the uneasiness in his limbs fade into warm comfort. He felt light in the knowledge that he had made a decision, and for once felt like the future in front of him was an open field instead of a dark and narrow path. Growing old never seemed like a possibility before, but now…

Foggy returned, equally naked as Matt, with a spring in his step and several things in his hands that he set down on the coffee table. First was a pair of cuffs that Foggy locked around Matt’s wrists. Foggy kissed Matt’s wrist bone with the sound of each lock. Second was, to Matt’s relief, lube.

Foggy bent down and wrapped his lips around Matt’s nipple, rolling it around on his tongue while he slicked up his fingers with lubricant. Matt sighed, pleasure enveloping his body like he was sinking into a warm bath. Foggy took Matt’s good leg and raised it until he could sit it on his shoulder.

The first finger to sink inside of Matt made the muscles in his thighs shudder. He and Foggy hadn’t had sex since Matt’s injury, and his body had tightened up in the interim. A part of him wondered if this was what it would have been like for Foggy to take his virginity-- slow, calculated, determined to make Matt feel every sensation so he could get lost in pleasure. In truth, he and Foggy would probably have fumbled over each other and certain parts would have missed certain holes many times, but it still had that feeling of new sensation and uncertainty that losing his virginity had caused in him. 

But more than that, as the second finger slid in, was the feeling of home. Matt and Foggy knew each other's bodies like the streets they grew up on, like their living room, or their kitchen. Every inch inside out. Matt’s body had molded itself to Foggy as time had gone on. It knew how to stretch so that it clung tightly to Foggy’s fingers but was always ready for more if Foggy wanted to give it to him. It knew how far he needed to tilt his head so Foggy could kiss him. It knew how to dig its heel into Foggy’s back so Foggy could feel how desperately Matt wanted it.

Foggy pulled his fingers out and reached out to the table.

“I love you, Matt,” he said, kissing Matt one more time before moving down to bite Matt’s neck.

“I love you, too,” Matt sighed into the air above him. 

He had no time to catch his breath before Foggy pushed one of their medium sized dildos into him, not stopping until it was fully inside of Matt. Foggy pulled the dildo back and forth, stretching Matt out after so long of tightening up. 

“We’re getting married,” Matt said breathlessly.

“I need to get an engagement ring,” Foggy replied. “And we are going to have to call a lot of people.”

“Sex first.”

Foggy pulled the dildo from Matt, leaving Matt’s hole to gape slightly. He tossed the dildo to the side.

“Sex first,” Foggy agreed.

Foggy slid home. Matt arched his back, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. The franticness they began with was entirely gone, and instead Foggy leisurely thrust in and out of Matt with a slow and sensual roll of his hips. With one hand, he reached up and put his hand between Matt’s two bound ones. Matt squeezed it tightly. 

“I can’t wait to show you off.” Foggy groaned. “Everyone’s going to look at you and know exactly who you belong to.”

“Yours,” Matt promised. “I’ll always be yours.”

Foggy snaked his other hand up Matt’s body, skirting past every muscle and scar, before wrapping around the column of Matt’s throat in an imitation of the collar he would soon lock there.

“Always.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write this just to justify the E rating? Yes, yes I did.

Matt paced calmly across the courtroom; his back straight, his head high, and his voice steady as he delivered their closing argument. Everyone in the room was enraptured with his calm, measured tone as he laid out the facts of the case and why their client could not be convicted in accordance to the letter of the law. 

He settled their case with the swagger that meant he was confident they had won. The judge ordered the jury to begin their deliberations, and Matt stretched his neck in a way that made the buckle on his deep red collar glint in the afternoon sun.

It was the sexiest thing Foggy had ever seen.

Which was why, as soon as the Judge ordered a recess so the jury could deliberate, Foggy and Matt ended up dragging each other into one of the more secluded bathrooms. Once the door shut behind them they pawed at each other like horny teenagers at a school dance. Matt shoved Foggy up against the bathroom wall and pulled Foggy’s cock out, not even giving time for it to feel the air before he was swallowing it down.

“Oh God,” Foggy groaned. He had been thrumming with desire ever since Matt stood up to speak with the confidence of a man who knew he could not be defeated but had nothing to prove. Foggy knew that everyone who saw Matt in court would be certain he was a Dom if not for that collar around his throat, and that the collar just made him more impressive. And now he had Matt’s hot mouth, so welcoming even after or perhaps because of all these years, sucking with just the right amount of enthusiasm on Foggy’s cock.

“You’re so good, baby,” Foggy sighed. He ran his hand through Matt’s hair, tugging gently on it. “So fucking good for me.”

Foggy felt pleasure build steadily in his belly. Matt dragged his tongue along the underside of the head of Foggy’s length, making Foggy gasp and chuckle. Foggy cupped Matt’s chin in his hand, feeling his hard cock inside Matt’s throat. He brushed a finger up and down the bulge in Matt’s throat before pulling Matt’s head back then pushing it back forward on his cock. 

Just when Foggy was about to come, Matt pulled out of Foggy’s grip and off Foggy’s cock. Foggy groaned as he felt his orgasm fade away then laughed at the tease. Matt walked over to the sinks and began washing his face. Foggy could see Matt’s smug grin in the mirror.

“You jerk,” Foggy sighed, taking deep breaths to try and get the swelling of his cock down.

Matt chuckled.

“How do I look?” He asked, turning to Foggy.

“A bit flushed,” Foggy said. “And I’ll need to straighten your tie. Your lips look beyond fucked out, but they always look like that.” 

Matt licked his lips at the compliment, his tongue lightly feeling the plump flesh even if he couldn’t see how red they were. 

“Me on the other hand…” Foggy sighed. “Everyone’s going to see how much I want to fuck you over the desk.”

Matt darted forward. He took Foggy’s hand and brought it to his crotch so Foggy could grip the metal between Matt’s legs.

“The best part of cock cages--” Matt licked those sinful lips again, “--is no one can see how turned on I am.”

“That’s because they’re so busy being turned on by you.” Foggy gripped Matt’s cage tightly, fumbling around until he was managing to just lightly brush Matt’s cock trapped inside. He gently caressed Matt’s cheek with the other hand. “They’re all so desperate to fuck you they think you’re only turned on inside their heads.”

“Maybe you should take this off and show them all how slutty I really am,” Matt said, grinding into Foggy’s hand.

“Oh baby.” Foggy pulled his hand away, relishing in Matt’s soft whine. “You know this cock is only for me.”

“Everything for you,” Matt whispered in Foggy’s ear. He tilted his head towards the rest of the building and closed his eyes. “We should leave soon.”

“If I get a hard on while the Judge reads out the verdict, like this is some high school stress induced nightmare, I’m coming for you Murdock.” Foggy pulled his still half-hard cock into his underwear and zipped up his pants.

“You’ll be coming for me anyway,” Matt said with a wink before ducking back out into the foyer.

Foggy groaned, then took a look in the mirror at his dishevelled appearance and groaned again. Matt was so going to pay for this.

\---

Matt was on his hands and knees in front of the couch. He was naked, apart from the collar and cage, and a light sheen of sweat coated his body like oil. Foggy wiggled his sock clad feet sitting in the small of Matt’s back and sipped his coffee. He changed pages in the book that he wasn’t really reading -- to be frank, it wasn’t interesting enough to read properly -- and listened to the sounds of the vibrating dildo pressed against Matt’s prostate.

“What did you do wrong, baby?” Foggy turned his page again. The main character had just discovered her Dom was having an affair with his coworker. Riveting.

“I teased my Master.” Matt was panting softly. He wasn’t out of shape now that he’d quit the vigilante lifestyle, but he was not nearly as obsessive as he had been even in college. Between the exertion and the arousal, he was starting to lose some of his control. Good. “I did not let him fuck my mouth like he deserved. I was--” Matt chuckled, but in that breathless way that meant he was __so__ close to coming. “--A cocky little shit.”

“Yes you were.” Foggy didn’t put the book down, but it felt more like a prop than it had a moment ago. “And what did you do right?”

“I won our case,” Matt said with a bright grin. Less than an hour of deliberation. A Not Guilty verdict and a promise into an internal investigation as to how the case got so far on such poor evidence. 

“ _ _We__ won our case,” Foggy said, but he was prouder of Matt than Matt was and definitely considered it Matt’s victory. His opening and closing arguments were stellar, and his cross examination of the arresting officer was more brutal than some of the footage Foggy had seen of Matt in combat. “But you were definitely the standout player. So a punishment and a reward at the same time, what a fun evening for the both of us.”

Foggy reached over and turned up the vibrations of the dildo. Matt jolted beneath Foggy’s feet but didn’t move an inch from position. What a beautiful man. As soft as if it was a feather, Foggy traced his finger across the quivering muscle in Matt’s thigh, dipping between his legs until he was almost grazing Matt’s tight sack, before turning around again to run over Matt’s ass, his back, and then down the other leg. Matt trembled as much as he could while still keeping such rigid control over his body, the anticipation making him coil tight.

Foggy brought his palm down on Matt’s butt cheek with a loud __smack__. Matt’s scream was muffled, causing Foggy to lean over to see Matt’s face. Matt’s cheeks were red, his eyes fixed in front of him, and he was desperately biting the inside of his cheek. Foggy frowned and forced his fingers in between Matt’s lips and pressed down on Matt’s jaw until Matt opened his mouth with a gasp.

“Did you think I don’t want to hear you?” Foggy asked, enjoying the hard edge in his voice.

“‘o ‘s’er,” Matt slurred around Foggy’s fingers.

“Did you not want to hear your squeals while I spanked you?”

No answer.

Foggy sighed, holding Matt’s jaw open and feeling drool begin to drip down his wrist. He ran his other hand through Matt’s hair, scratching Matt’s scalp with his nails.

“You and your pride.” Foggy tutted like a disappointed school teacher. He stood up, ignoring Matt’s whine, and grabbed the spider gag they had in their toy box. 

Matt had wisely not closed his mouth, letting the drool run down his cheek. Foggy knew Matt wasn’t a huge fan of the sensation. He claimed it was sticky and made him feel gross. Considering how fast it made Matt fall into Subspace, Foggy knew the feeling was more debauched than gross. On his end, there was nothing hotter than seeing his eternally in control boyfriend drooling all over himself. Especially when he was being tormented by a vibrator loud enough for Foggy to hear all away across the room. 

Foggy knelt down in front of Matt. Matt’s first instinct was to tip his head forward, licking Foggy’s fingers like an eager puppy about to be fed. If Matt wanted to act like a puppy, Foggy was going to treat him like one, working the spider gag into Matt’s mouth and stretching his lips tight around it. 

“Pant for me,” Foggy said, expecting Matt to roll his eyes at him.

Instead, Matt did just that. 

Foggy groaned, the hardness in his slacks turning to goddamn cement. He pulled Matt forward to give him a kiss on the head, and then scratched Matt’s head just like he would a dog. And there Foggy was thinking that after twenty years he and Matt might run out of ideas.

After adjusting Matt back into position, Foggy returned to his seat, including resting his feet on Matt’s back. Matt stayed still, being the perfect footrest for his Master, but every so often he would whine in what Foggy objectively thought of as adorable but really was turning Foggy on harder than an aphrodisiac. 

When enough time had passed that Foggy knew Matt had sunk back into the mindset of being furniture, Foggy took out the paddle he had been concealing and brought it down on Matt’s right cheek.

This time Matt had no way of hiding his startled yell, especially not when Foggy spanked him again before his cry had even finished. 

“Good boy.” 

Foggy spanked in an alternating rhythm-- some hits were light, some hard, sometimes far apart and sometimes they came in a rapid fire. Matt cried out beautifully each time they made contact, his cries getting higher and thinner as he sank deeper into Subspace.

By the time they reached fifteen-- not that Foggy was counting aloud or giving Matt any opportunity to count himself-- Matt was whining almost constantly. He didn’t move aside from involuntary tremors, and his hole clenching tightly around the dildo was the only indication of how desperate he was. Foggy could feel how hot Matt’s ass was getting every time his hand came close to the pink flesh. 

Matt grunted when the sixteenth strike came. Foggy tossed the paddle to the side and sank to his knees behind Matt, groaning when he finally let his erection free from his slacks. 

“Hands,” Foggy ordered.

Matt lifted his left hand and held it out. Foggy took hold of it and pressed it into the small of Matt’s back, where Foggy’s feet had been. They repeated the action and Foggy clasped a pair of cuffs around Matt’s wrists. Still Matt stayed upright.

“Punishment’s over, baby,” Foggy said. He began to lube up his pointer finger. “Just enjoy.”

The slide of Foggy’s finger alongside the vibrator took all the wind out of Matt’s sails and he lost his balance, head and shoulders crashing into the floor.

“Deep breaths, Matt,” Foggy said. “I’ve got you.”

The hard plastic was vibrating hard enough against Foggy’s finger for him to feel it shooting up his wrist and into his shoulder. It was a heady sensation in contrast to the familiar warmth of Matt’s insides clinging tightly around him. 

Although Matt was loose around one finger, getting the second one in beside the dildo took time and patience. Matt was breathing heavily with the strain, exhausted by the day and struggling to accommodate more. Foggy stroked Matt’s flank and whispered encouragement until his second finger sank in. 

It was a tight fit at first, so Foggy kept his thrusts slow. He could feel each ridge of Matt’s internal muscles as they clamped down on him. Slowly Foggy’s thrusts became easier so he increased the speed, gently amping up until he was fucking Matt with his fingers.

“Do you want me to make you come like this?” Foggy asked. The stretch was a lot, and he didn’t want to push Matt’s body too far after such a long day. But he and Matt both knew that if Matt came now then this was where they would be ending.

“‘ea’,” Matt moaned. 

“Tap the ground once to come like this. Tap twice for more.”

The two taps were loud enough the Foggy sent a mental apology to their downstairs neighbors. Always one to oblige, Foggy added another finger to the crowd inside Matt’s hole. To keep Matt from being too overstimulated, Foggy turned down the strength of the vibrators, but did not turn them down enough for Matt to ignore them. 

Foggy grasped the base of the vibrator and pulled it out until only the tip was still inside Matt. Matt groaned as it left him, then shrieked when Foggy pushed it all the way in. Foggy fucked the vibrator in and out of Matt, using his fingers to pull at Matt’s rim and stretch it out. 

Matt buried his face in the floor, rubbing his face along the soft rug beneath him. His fingers twitched against his back. Every breath was closer to a whistle. Sometimes he would even let out a sob.

His hole was stretching under Foggy’s rough thrusts. Foggy could stop now and Matt would be ready, but it would be work, and Foggy wanted this to feel good. They had done double penetration a few times. Not as often as fisting, because Matt found that the silicone toy downgraded the sensation, but more than enough that Matt was used to the feeling. He had simply tightened up with everything that had happened through the day. 

Foggy was more than happy to help him loosen up.

Foggy continued his relentless assault on Matt’s hole, thrusting the dildo in and out with no time for Matt to catch his breath. Even Foggy’s breathing seemed to have halted, meaning the only sounds he could hear was Matt’s breathless whines, the slap of lube, and the whir of the vibrator. Matt’s rim fluttered against Foggy’s fingertips. And then the moment Foggy had been waiting for: Matt lost his control and began thrusting back onto Foggy’s fingers and the toy in his hand, bucking his hips wildly to chase the sensations. 

Matt groaned loudly when Foggy pulled his fingers out of Matt and let the vibrator sit inside him. Foggy rubbed Matt’s back gently. He reached under Matt and unlocked Matt’s cock cage, slowly taking it off Matt and setting it down on the coffee table. As soon as it was free, Matt’s cock began to swell to full hardness. 

“Come when you’re ready,” Foggy said, lining his own cock up against the vibrator before thrusting home.

Matt howled, his body shaking violently and his head tossing from side to side. 

The vibrations were making Foggy shake as well. It was an intense sensation, feeling the toy against his cock while Matt clenched around him. Foggy thrust as deep and fast as he could, trying to make Matt come before he did. He reached down and held Matt’s cock in a loose grip, letting Matt hump his hand.

Foggy stroked Matt’s cock in time with his thrusts, keeping his pointer finger under the head just to drive Matt mad. They rocked together, panting and moaning in time with each other. Foggy, having kept himself on the edge for too long and never being one for a heap of stamina anyway, felt his orgasm building rapidly, but he was determined to make Matt come first. 

The movement of Matt’s hips stuttered and became jagged. He thrust wildly between Foggy’s hand and the sensations behind him as if he wasn’t sure which he preferred, or even as if he was trying to escape one only to be tormented by the other. Foggy moved his hand faster while reaching up to gently tug on the red collar around Matt’s throat.

Matt’s orgasm wasn’t as forceful as Foggy anticipated. After almost a month inside the cage, Foggy thought Matt would come like it was being beaten out of him. Instead it seemed to come in waves, starting slow but never really ending no matter how much Matt trembled. It looked more like Matt was being milked than having a true orgasm. 

When Foggy came soon after, however, it was exactly what he anticipated. He spurted inside Matt with enough force that it made his stomach cramp. Matt squeezed tightly around him and the vibrator, still shuddering like he had a fever, and the sensation quickly became too much for Foggy to handle. He pulled out of Matt and sighed as his cock started to soften in the cool air. When Foggy had time to catch his breath, he gently pried the vibrator out of Matt, who seemed reluctant to let go of it. When Foggy did finally get it free, Matt slumped forward, curling in on himself.

Foggy turned the vibrator off before setting it aside. He stood up, feeling his leg cramp from being on the floor for too long. Matt wasn’t the only one who wasn’t as acobratic as he used to be. Foggy walked to the bathroom and grabbed their softest washcloth and a small basin they kept for this purpose, which he filled with soapy water. 

When he returned, Matt was still lying on the floor. Foggy settled beside him and first cleaned the sweat from Matt’s body, which trembled with every touch. He went to wipe the come off Matt’s belly, but Matt’s cock was still occasionally spending even though the stimulation was long gone. Foggy wiped Matt’s stomach clean and resigned himself to having to wash their rug later, before wiping the lube and come away from Matt’s hole. It gaped slightly, and when he ran the washcloth over it his fingers nearly sank in again. 

Once he and Matt were clean, Foggy unclipped Matt’s gag. Matt lazily swallowed, even though his face had been covered in saliva. Foggy pressed a kiss to Matt’s lips, and got a small response in return. Then Foggy tried to unlock Matt’s handcuffs, but changed his mind when Matt practically sobbed every time Foggy tried.

“Okay, you can keep them for now,” Foggy said, chuckling.

He grabbed some pillows from the couch and lay them on the rug, before laying down beside Matt. He wanted to move Matt to the bed, but Matt was clearly unwilling and unable to move and Foggy was certainly unable to carry him. Instead they lay together, Foggy pulled Matt tightly against his chest and gently ran his hands over Matt’s skin. 

“Did you like your reward?” Foggy asked. 

“Ye’ ‘ter,” Matt slurred.

Foggy chuckled and kissed Matt’s cheek. Matt was flying high, and Foggy wasn’t far behind him.

“You are the cutest Sub in the world.” Foggy kissed Matt’s cheek again and settled behind him. “Get some rest, I’m right here.”

“Stay?” Matt asked.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Foggy felt the warmth of a Domspace induced nap beg to him. “I’ll always take care of you.”

As the two of them dozed off, the evening sky turned to night and the billboard outside flooded their apartment in soft pink light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, commenting, kudosing, etc! It's been a blast! This fic is officially the longest thing I have ever written (by a margin!) and was also the first thing I had written in a while, so it is very near and dear to me.
> 
> I did eventually get around to making a tumblr here (lemonandpie.tumblr.com). It's pretty quiet rn, but I've got some bonus material on this series and the ask box is open so come say hi! 
> 
> Comments are yummy, whether you're a new reader, an old reader, someone who has commented every chapter, or someone who has never commented at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the writer ;)


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